


Little Plastic Tree

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-21
Updated: 2003-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: How does Leo spend Christmas?





	Little Plastic Tree

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Little Plastic Tree**

**by:** Baked Goldfish

**Character(s):** Leo, ensemble  
**Author's Note:** For anyone who's interested, the reason I wrote this: I was recently finding the volume through definite integration of a solid with a circular cross-section formed by rotating a function around the x-axis, when something just screamed "Christmas!" And, no, I'm not joking, though I wish I were. The function was: f(x) = (2x^2 + x^4), and the formula for finding the volume is, generally, pi times the integral between a and b of the square of the function f(x), where a and b are the ends of the solid. 

The current days began like any other DC winter's day of years past: cold, wet, bleak. Still, there was a bustle of activity in every part of the nation's capitol, as workers--government and otherwise--ignored the impending holidays. Rather, they went about their daily business as if it were late February instead of mid-December. 

The White House, though its interiors were done up with the festive reds, golds, and greens of the season, was no exception. Staffers were dressed in their normal, professional suits, carrying the same workloads that they carried every other day. At the moment, their conversations included much mention of the re-election campaign (which was now in full swing), and the hearings (also, unfortunately, in full swing). 

That being said, however, the atmosphere was just a little different. 

For instance, Toby had, once again, begun his quest to find the perfect holiday musicians, intent on dispelling the notion that he was extra grumpy during the holiday season. Unfortunately, he was somewhat hindered by the fact that, if he disliked the entertainers, he would let them know loudly and publicly before firing them in fairly humiliating manners. 

Other staff members also got into the spirit of things. Case in point, CJ's office became a regular Santa's Workshop, with little wooden elves making toys in the corner of her desk, silver tinsel strung up on the walls, and various other decorations dotting the room. Even Gail had her own decoration, a tiny Santa figurine to swim around.  
Among the ornaments, CJ had a twig of mistletoe hung up on her doorframe. Unfortunately, only one person at a time ever went to see her. But one moment of amusement arose when both Sam and Josh came to her office. They stood in the doorway together, oblivious to the mistletoe above them until CJ told them to look up. As soon as they had done what CJ had said, they jumped away from each other, each one eying the other one warily. 

This incident, however, did not quash their holiday spirits. Sam spent much of his free time debating over what gifts to buy for which people, while Josh made sure that each member of his staff and all his coworkers got a tiny, new present on their desks, each day for seven business days (as he had been visiting home when Hannukah had really rolled around, and had not been able to celebrate with his officemates). In fact, the two even collaborated on holiday projects. A few times, during the lunch hour, they got together with some of their subordinates and went carrolling around the west wing. 

Singing politically correct, non-denominational songs of the season, of course. After all, this *is* the White House. 

Other areas of the building were not untouched by holiday spirit. Ainsley's little corner of the world was home to gingerbread men, thick and wide sugar cookies, rocky road brownies, and various other homemade sweets. It soon came to pass that many, many people "needed" young Ms. Hayes' advice on legal matters, and all those people felt the need to pay her personal visits as often as possible. Also, Oliver Babish was seen on more than a few occasions wearing a bright red Santa hat. Soon enough, the associate counsels and their staffs started debating whether that sight was as incongruous as the one of Lionel Tribbey wearing the wide, light-up, tree-shaped tie the year before. 

Then, there was the President. Every morning, before the tours began, he would come down to the main foyer, just as Toby's musicians-of-the-day were setting up, and he would revel in the beauty of the huge, perfect, gold-trimmed tree. And every evening, when he went back up to the residence, he would melt at the sight of the smaller, but more personal pine that he had decorated with Abbey and the kids, drinking in the vision of the red, green, and silver baubles that dotted the verdant needles. In between, during the day, he and Charlie would spend every free minute working with the White House events coordinator, meticulously planning every holiday goings-on at the White House and beyond. If anyone personified the holiday spirit in this building, it was the President. 

As is always the case, however, there was one member of the staff who did not seem to revel in the season as much as the others. True, his office had a few decorations, and even a small tree, but all of it had been put in place at his secretary's constant insistence. Every card that he signed seemed more like an act of business than an act of love, even though he knew most of the people he was sending the cards to, and was friendly with the majority of them. He had watched with something close to a mixture of annoyance and surprise as Margaret had cleared a corner table to place the small, pre-trimmed fake tree there. Also, his carrolling deputy knew to keep his band of merry singers away, as he knew that Leo was in this building to work, work, and work some more. Mostly, the other members of the staff rarely even mentioned holiday spirit around him, as he never made the move to mention it to them. The only exception was the President, who invited Leo to come up to Manchester for a few days. Leo politely turned him down. 

This is not to say that Leo scorned the festivities; actually, he was glad that his staff and friends were getting a much-needed break from the stress of the past few months. It was just that, with them having their fun, there was a lot of work being left behind. Rather than stop their festivities, he took it upon himself to quietly take care of all their leftover work, disregarding the office play. The only time anyone ever saw him "get into the spirit of things" was at official White House holiday functions, and, really, that was only for his friend and President's benefit--no need to scare away support with his seemingly apathetic mood. 

Well, the middle of December soon became late December, and on the twenty-fourth, late in the evening, a soft, slow snow was scheduled to fall. The offices of the White House were just about empty that Christmas Eve, with only one member of the senior staff remaining. Even the President had trekked up to Manchester with his family to escape the stress of the workplace, intent on spending Christmas in a place where snow would be assured well into the new year. 

At around seven, Leo packed up his things, some files going into his briefcase, others forming a tidy little stack on his desk. He pulled his winter coat close around him to ward off the sweet, cold air of the freezing night, and walked down to the garage. The few uniformed Secret Service agents on duty greeted him with "Merry Christmas, Mr. McGarry," or, on occasion, "Happy Holidays." He responded with polite smiles and wishes of the same to them. 

Home was still the same hotel room he had been living in ever since Jenny had left him. The building itself was quiet, as most of its occupants had gone to visit family and friends. The doorman was still there, though, and welcomed Leo with a holiday greeting. Again, Leo smiled and said good evening, before shuffling up to his room. 

His first order of business, after changing into more casual clothes, was to pull out from the closet a kind of bent, small, cardboard box. It was about two feet high, and maybe a foot wide on any side. He pulled out the contents, a little plastic tree and its black plastic stand, and set them up on the coffee table. Then, he pressed the play button on his answering machine while going off in search of the string of lights. 

There were about a dozen or so short messages from various staff members and other friends, all wishing him happy holidays from wherever they were in the world. Then, as he pulled the box of lights from the back of the top shelf of the closet, he heard the message he'd been waiting for. Mallory had called, late in the day, wishing him a merry Christmas and wishing he were there with her. Earlier that week, he had told her he'd be tied up with work and wouldn't be able to make the trip up to Boston with her and her mother. A pang of regret hit him as Mallory finished up her fourth and final "I love you," but then he thought of the awkwardness that still appeared whenever he and Jenny were in the same room together. The pang dissipated, and he took the lights out of the box and laced them around the tree. 

Finally, he went back to the closet and pulled out one more item: a tiny, frosted glass star. Carefully, he placed that on the top of the small tree before plugging the lights in. 

He turned off the living room lights, and sat down on the couch across from his little plastic tree. Outside, the skies were dark and that soft snow had begun to fall. In the distance, Leo could hear carrollers from Georgetown singing in the streets. They moved further and further away, until he could hear them no more. A car passed by, breaking the silence momentarily; but it, too, left, and silence reigned again. 

All the while, he sat on the couch, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting in his hands, watching as the bulbs danced on and off. A smile, rarely seen these days, graced his craggy features, as the lights splashed blue, green and red hues on his face; and his countenance softened severely from what his friends and coworkers usually saw. Tomorrow, those very same coworkers, plus his family and others close to his well-guarded heart, would all receive gifts from him, thanks to the wonders of the internet, Christmas-day delivery, and his very own deep pockets. 

Tonight, though, Leo had one more thing to do in the semi-darkness of the room. He gathered up every gift that had been given him, and put them around the tree. He would open them in the morning, bright and early, before his coffee, before his newspaper, before CNN. 

He leaned back against the pillowy sofa, and tucked his feet under him. The quiet calm of the lonely night was a omforting difference from the usual hustle of his daily life. Eventually, the hypnotic murmur of the changing lights lulled him to sleep, and he lay on his side with his arms tucked to his chest and his knees pulled up a bit so that he could fit comfortably on the sofa. Outside, the slow, fat flakes drifted lazily to the streets below, building up a muted, pristine barrier against the dirty ground, and the night stilled 

And in the darkness, the lights on his little plastic tree blinked in merry chaos, alone in its tiny, but happy, silent world. 

-the end-   



End file.
